


Not Coming Back

by orphan_account



Series: Bad Things Happen 2.0 [17]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Child Abandonment, Deceit | Janus Sanders Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Kid Deceit | Janus Sanders, Mild Language, Parent Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sympathetic Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Sympathetic Deceit | Janus Sanders, Unsympathetic Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Unsympathetic Logic | Logan Sanders, Unsympathetic Morality | Patton Sanders, and remus gives him one bc remus gets it, part of our mom remus agenda, they're not rlly in the story but yea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:40:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27103621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “He lies too much,” had been the excuse this time, “we can’t have Thomas becoming a liar, can we?”Yeah. Because that’s the worst someone can be—a liar.Talk about a fucking joke.
Relationships: Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders
Series: Bad Things Happen 2.0 [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1961527
Comments: 4
Kudos: 78
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	Not Coming Back

“That’s not going to help,” Remus tells the toddler right before another scream pierces the air, arms wrapped around the child’s middle and grey strands of hair hanging in his face, a headache pounding at his temples. He takes a step back only to be met with another shriek, narrowly dodging the kid’s attempt to bite him.

The screams started over an hour ago; Remus having gone to check only when they started to sound more human than monster, finding a tiny, crying child banging on the door leading to the other side. The others had dropped the kid off on his side of the mind palace and essentially told him that he wasn’t worth the trouble, so he was Remus’ responsibility now.

“He lies too much,” had been the excuse this time, “we can’t have Thomas becoming a liar, can we?”

Yeah. Because _that’s_ the worst someone can be—a liar.

Talk about a fucking joke.

The boy in his arms wiggles, another throat-tearing scream escaping him—and Remus swallows down the onslaught of thoughts flooding his head, his irritation blending with all of Thomas’ forbidden thoughts, each graphic image worse than the last. It takes every ounce of self-control he has to keep from lashing out.

_Stop_ , he tells himself, **_stop_**. _Pull yourself together, Remus, he’s just a_ kid _, for fuck’s sake._

“Look, you can scream all you want,” he tells him, pulling the toddler closer to his chest, “you can cry, too, I don’t care. It’s not like I can judge you for it, but—it’s not going to change anything, okay? This—this is _it_. They’re gone—they’re not coming back, no matter what you do.”

The toddler quiets down, screams dying down into soft, barely heard whimpers—but he still fidgets in the other’s arms, scaled face turning up to glare at him, human eye an angry red.

Remus’ shoulders shake, the anger—the _hurt_ —on the other’s face enough to choke him. He looks away, biting his lip when he feels his eyes start to burn.

“…I know it sucks,” he murmurs, voice softer this time, calmer, “trust me, I’ve been there. But—but it’s not _all_ bad, you know? It’s not like you’re alone—” _not like I was_ , “—so that has to count for something, right?”

The boy sniffles, rubbing at his eye. Head lowered, he leans into Remus’ chest, one fist twisted in the fabric of the other side’s costume and the other resting in his lap.

The tension in Remus’ body melts away, the side almost collapsing in relief. “Cool,” he mutters, “glad we got that all sorted out.” Then, after a moment of thought, he asks, tone light, “Say, you seem like you could use a pick-me-up—why don’t we play some games, hm?”

The boy perks up a little at that, nodding into his chest.

Remus grins, adjusting him in his arms and turning away from the door to the other side, walking back in the direction of his—of _their_ —home. “Great! I have no idea what we have, but I’m sure you’ll kick my butt no matter what it is.”

As it turns out, the kid—Janus, as Remus would find out later— _does_ beat him at every game they play, even when Remus tries to win; tricking him at every turn and giggling when he comes out of it with an arguably too large sum of candy.

Remus can’t find it in him to be upset over it.


End file.
